They didn’t drive at a hundred kilometers an hour on the service road with me in the front seat, playing chicken with both our lives–my cliche in a black leather jacket, I think of you to remember I survived. Headlights and breath held, the nearby 711 blinking like a warning. As the other car veered right, I didn’t blink, not once. He laughed and lowered the windows, letting the wind in. It made my eyes water, all that light scattered through the windshield like a million feathered things.